Nerdanel
by ramble40
Summary: a series of shorts about Nerdanel and Fëanor, when they were young and before the angst.
1. Chapter 1

**The Dance**

She enjoyed bringing him to the smaller villages in the North. They were not as formal here as in Tirion, the atmosphere more relaxed and the wine much stronger. She especially enjoyed arriving in time for festival or during other types of celebration for the festivities were louder and rowdy. They were unrestrained in their frivolity and while honored that the High Prince was amongst them, could care less whether he joined in. Which was why, when she heard there was a wedding in the village she insisted they go.

He was not interested of course. He was not fond of large gatherings due to his strange aversion to being touched. At formal occasions with his father she would observe him standing there stiffly, staring straight ahead avoiding all contact even with his eyes. Although he never seemed to mind when she grabbed him by the arm and pulled him along.

But here it was different. Here, he did not seem to mind the roughshod ways of the northern folk and admired their will and strength to live within these harsh lands. For even in Aman, life could be harsh at the edge of the wilds. But he respected them and their lack of interest in him. They always treated him with the proper respect due to a Noldorin High Prince mind you, always with the proper greetings and show of hospitality, but it stopped there. And he was allowed to meander at his own pace and seek out the interests of his own free will. Which is why he agreed, albeit reluctantly, to go with her and join the village revelry.

Inwardly she smiled though for while he would never admit it, she knew he enjoyed it.

She had borrowed a dress from the innkeeper's daughter although it did not really fit properly. Nothing ever really fit her properly, she being far too skinny in some areas, all lanky legs and knees and elbows and far too thick in others, her hips never seemed to conform to the proper proportions of Noldorin beauty. She would point out these obvious defects out but he would simply turn that piercing gaze he would get when appraising an object on her and say that she was being foolish for she was perfect, which for some reason only left her feeling even more awkward. She knew what perfection was and it was not her.

They joined the festivities well after the ceremony was over and the real celebrating had begun. The minstrels began to beat out the type of pounding rhythm that caused your feet and your heart to try to match and she did not wish to sit on the sides. It was a reel and it was fast and she jumped up and swept around the room, joining the other revelers and laughing with complete abandon. Whenever she looked up there was a different face before her, another set of hands around her waist leading her through the steps. She was released and spun around to the next partner and the next set of hands grabbed her and pulled her against their person to for the next turn around the room only when she looked up she knew the face that was smiling back at her. He was laughing and his hair flew around him, his clothes slightly disheveled and yet he still managed to look the picture of perfection. He pulled her against him as they flew across the room, but when they came back around to switch partners she he did not release her, instead held her to him to begin the steps again, leaving their would be partners standing there for the briefest of moments before they shrugged and moved on the next. She looked at him with surprise and laughed as she spoke.

"Fëanáro, we have to switch partners!"

To which he simply shrugged and pulled her even closer.

"Why?"

And suddenly she no longer knew whether the pounding she felt in her chest was from the pounding of the drums, her heart, or his.


	2. Travels

**Travels**

They would spend months at a time out in the wild together. She would come out to the mountains with her sketch books in hand and delve the deepest caves searching for quartz and crystals or other rare minerals to cut and shape in her studio back home. He had been fascinated by this when he heard her speak of it and met with her as she traveled; something he insisted had happened completely by chance although as they grew older she began to believe otherwise. And so she took him to the vast caves and dark crevasses in the mountains, showing him the wonders that lay beneath the earth that glittered and shone bright by candle light. It was not long before he began his own collection of stones and crystals although what he created with them was unknown to her for much of his work he kept secret. She welcomed his company though and was grateful for the bond of friendship that was born. And he would relax when he accompanied her, discovering that he did not have to concern himself with the propriety expected from a High Prince while in the villages of the north, or with her. They had reached such a level of comfort that at times when they camped they would lay around scantily clad, unconcerned with the lack of clothing on the other. They laughed freely and thrived off of a friendship built out of equality and mutual respect. And when they returned from their travels always they parted with an embrace and she would dole out a playful punch to his arm.

She was not sure exactly when her feelings had changed. Just that one day his smile began to look different and his eyes seem to be brighter. The most banal gestures became almost hypnotizing and she would find herself mesmerized by the way he would push his hair behind his ears or tap his fingers against his thigh when lost in thought. It had begun to make journeys with him difficult and she would keep to herself by making it appear as if she were lost in her sketches, pad and pencil in hand, scribbling furiously.

Once she had sketched him in secret only to have him discover it when he had crept up behind her as she worked, peeking over her shoulder and almost giggling when she swatted him away. He had grinned and offered to pose to which she rolled her eyes and replied that would not be necessary since he constantly ran around barely clothed, leaving very little to the imagination. He just smiled and shrugged and went back to preparing whatever he had caught to eat or inspecting whatever they had found within the mountains that day. She had begun to wear more clothing around him, suddenly feeling embarrassed by her bodies obvious flaws when next to his perfection and avoided his eyes so he could not see her insecurities. But in the rare quiet moments in which he slept, she would study his face, memorizing the line of his jaw and soft curve of his mouth as she committed the images to paper again and again.

When they delved into the caves, they would squeeze close to each other in certain passages and she would curse the pounding of her heart and pray he would not be witness to her foolishness. Sometimes she would imagine that he would hold her to him for just a second to long at times or that he would grip her hand through certain tunnels when it was not necessary. But these were just the fancies of a young girl infatuated and she would always brush them off as such. A child's imagination, nothing more and she resolved that she would not accompany him as much in the future, becoming painfully aware of the inappropriateness of their casual behavior.

And when they returned from what she had decided would be the last of their travels together she could not help holding him in their customary parting embrace for just a second longer than usual as she breathed in the scent of his hair and her cheek gently brushed against his. As she pulled away she thought that for a moment he resisted releasing her as his face turned towards hers and they were so close she thought they might kiss. But she brushed this off as a silly girl's fantasy and kept her head lowered as she turned and left him standing there in the night.


	3. Along the Sea

**Along the Sea**

* * *

Nerdanel burst back up out of the water gasping for breath and giving a small curse as she did so.

"Bloody Ëa! I almost had it that time!"

She had been trying to make it down to the bottom of the reef for the better part of the day now. She had seen a large bed of oysters along the reef and one had opened to reveal a large pearl and she had set her mind to retrieving it. So far all attempts had been fruitless. Something Fëanáro was quick to point out from his seat on the rock face where he had been watching her.

"You have been at this all day. You really should not become so fixated on things."

"You are one to talk," she said as she treaded the clear blue water, looking down till she spotted her prize once again.

"You are going to hurt yourself, and you use up your air before you are even all the way down."

"If you think you can do better, by all means," she muttered.

"It is too deep and not all that impressive."

"It is perfect and I want it. I am surprised at how quickly you are ready give in. If you valued my companionship at all you would do this for me."

"You would ask me to risk my life for some silly crystalline formation resulting from a parasite?"

"Well I guess there is my answer," she sniffed and began to swim back towards the shore. "Just so you know, I do not really care that much for you either."

She heard a splash from behind her and turned to see that he was gone from the rock face. She picked up her pace for the shore. He never did find that line of teasing from her very funny and she would not be surprised if he were swimming under her right now about to yank her under.

They had been traveling together for several weeks now before taking a detour to the sea before returning to their homes. It seemed to her at times as if he were putting off the inevitable return to his father's courts when he was on break from his apprenticeship with her father. She always felt bad for him during these times and so would extend her stays in the wild for him till she could stay away no longer although she could not for the life of her understand why he liked staying out here with her.

She reached the beach and turned around triumphantly ready to gloat over her victory of reaching the shore before he did and was not prepared when saw him then floating motionless. She paused for a moment and squinted at the water.

"Feanaro?" she whispered softly not exactly sure if she was seeing what she thought she was seeing. She began to walk back in to the water and her eyes went wide with confirmation of her fears.

"Feanaro!" she screamed and ran back in to the ocean and towards the lifeless figure that floated in it. She swam furiously to where he was at, flipping his body face up and pulling him up against her, his head against her shoulder as she swam backwards, using her body to keep him from going under.

When she finally reached the shore she pulled his limp body onto the beach and leaned over him, desperately looking for signs of life. She placed her head against his chest and was relieved when she heard the steady drum of his heart but felt dread again when she could not see his chest rise and fall and she knew what she had to do. When she was younger she had watched as one of her father's hounds gave birth to a litter of pups. One had been still born and Nerdanel had wept upon seeing its tiny lifeless body but her father had simply picked up the tiny babe in his strong hands and placed his mouth over the pup's nose, breathing air into the tiny lungs until a small whine came from the animal and it slowly began to move.

She grabbed his head and tilted it back as she placed her mouth over his and quickly blew air into his lungs. After each breath she would pause for a second to see if his chest would move and when it did not she covered his mouth again with her own. It was during her third or fourth attempt, when she was starting to feel hopeless that his hand suddenly came up and grabbed the back of her head as her mouth covered his. She looked around in confusion as she realized that his other hand had gone around her waist and that he had rolled over on top of her and was kissing her. Her eyes went wide with shock and she pushed at him and he pulled back, a wide grin across his face.

"Really Nerdanel, if you had wanted to kiss me all you had to do was to ask."

He pressed his lips against hers again and she lay there in shock for half a second, partly due to the fact that he had fooled her and the other part due to the fact that she was being kissed, before coming to her senses and throwing him off.

"You!," she screamed, pushing him so hard that he flew a short distance in the air. She stood up and grabbed handfuls of sand to throw at him as she spoke.

"You complete . . . you absolute . . . unmitigated ass!"

He held his hands up as shields from the blows she rained down on him.

"Of all the –"

"Ai!"

"- inane,"

"Nerdanel!"

"- witless,"

"Wait!"

"- empty-headed,"

"I did not mean –"

"- asinine things to do!"

"It was only a jest!"

"It was not funny!"

She stood over him for a moment more before turning to stomp off down the beach.

"I thought you did not care," he called out to her. She spun back around and stormed back towards him at such a pace that he began to scurry backwards as he raised his hands to fend off more blows.

"The only thing I care about is how grateful I am that now I do not have to drag a dead high prince back to his father's house and explain to his father what had happened to his brainless son! Although I still may have to because if I do not move away I just might kill you myself!"

She stood over him for another second, arms stiff at her sides and hands balled into tight fists before giving another kick and sending sand all over him again. She then turned and went back towards the camp.

Fëanáro lay back on his elbows and watched her as she left. He then looked down and opened his hand to look at the large pearl inside it. He looked back up to stare at her retreating back and gave a little smile.


	4. At the Forge

**Feanor and Nerdanel at the Forge**

* * *

"It is too much Nerdanel," he called out, pulling the iron from the forge.

She did not turn but continued to pull at the bellows forcing the air through the tuyere, breathing fierce life into the fire

"Nerdanel," he called again. His voice was a buzz in the back ground lost in the hiss of air and steam; she ignored him and increased the intensity and shape of the flames before her.

He came up behind her, his hand covering hers on the handle of the bellows, stopping her mid turn. He stood so close that her back bumped up against his chest.

"It is too much Nerdanel," he said again, his voice low and close to her ear and she could feel the warmth of his breath against her neck even as she held hers. He felt her tense as he spoke and he slowly pulled his hand from hers but did not move away. The heat from his person alone seemed to overpower the heat from the forge and she could feel his gaze burning behind her. She dropped her arms to her side but did not turn around. She was acutely aware of how close he stood behind her; she could feel the steady drum of his heart against her back and fought the rush of heat that surged through her own body.

"Nedanel," his voice came out a hoarse whisper and she squeezed her eyes shut, "please, it is too much." His hand came up and his fingers lightly touched the side of her face, causing her to shudder involuntarily as he gently pulled her head around towards his. His forehead pressed against hers, their lips barely touching as the air between them threatened to ignite. His lips brushed against hers as he spoke.

"Please look at me," he implored. She opened her eyes and slowly looked up directly into his and her breath escaped her in a gasp for the light she saw there seared through her very being. _His fire will consume me_, she thought, _and there is nothing I can do_.

A noise from the corridor broke rang through the room, the sound of tools being dropped, a curse called out over carelessness, and her head snapped around towards the door. The moment she pulled her eyes from his and pulled her face from his hand, the room slammed back into focus and she lurched away from his gaze for the door, air filling her lungs again as she remembered to breathe. She leaned against the doorway as one of other apprentices entered the room holding random pieces of Manwë's face in his hands, muttering about having to spend the rest of the afternoon repairing the damage done.

She pressed a hand to her head and smoothed her hair back as she straightened up and made for the corridor. Before she left she stole one last look over her shoulder to see him still standing there, silhouetted by the fire, his back to her. His arms hung down at his sides and his hands were balled into tight fists. His head turned slightly to the side towards where she stood at the door but he did not turn around.

This cannot happen. This cannot be real. But as she stood there staring at his silhouette against the fires of the forge she knew.

He is a High Prince and she a craftsman's daughter. He is perfection and she was being a fool.


	5. Firstborn

They were not prepared when he came.

She lay on her side as the light of Telperion began to crest, its soft glow causing reflections like little jewels on the water. She lay on her side because lying on her back is too uncomfortable, the pressure from the added weight causing sharp pains to shoot from her groin all the way down her legs. And lying on her stomach is impossible unless she digs a hole in the sand in which she can wedge her swollen stomach into like some bizarre puzzle piece. She is not in the mood to dig at the moment. No, she was quite content to lie on her side listening to the waves as they lapped up onto the shore. She looks for Fëanáro, but does not see him in the water as he searches beneath the black cloak of the ocean. Every so often she would catch a glimpse of the strange glow of one of those lamps he had created as he bobbed near the surface only to watch as it began to fade again and eventually wink out before resurfacing once more. She used to become so afraid when he would do that, reaching depths so deep that she could barely make out the light he carried. The dark of the water made her uneasy and when it would envelope her, her bearings would become confused and sometimes bring her to the point of panic as she would franticly grasp for the surface, desperate for the open sky once more.

But not Fëanáro. He would delve down as far as his body would allow, unconcerned with the dark and forever fascinated at how the light would reflect against the many creatures below the surface. He was always fascinated at how these living things could capture the light, as if they held it within themselves, giving it a life of its own. She did not understand how he could he could stand the quiet dark of the deep the way he could. For her it had felt as if she were trapped in a small space, suffocating and restrained while he would push himself even deeper, returning with pearls of magnificent beauty. He even had found a way of taking a metal tube and using it to breathe so he could float upon the surface face down for as long as he wished.

She used to pace nervously on the shore as he would do these things, but no more. They were married now, achieving a bond of bodily union and were one in their thoughts. She could feel him through their bond. She could feel the heat from the fires of his fëa, and she was no longer frightened if she could not see him for his heart beat fierce and strong and calmed her . . . until tonight.

It was a strange sensation when it happened. She could only akin it to a sudden whoosh feeling between her legs. She did not sit up but her eyes went wide and she held very still, assessing her body as she tried to sort out what had just happened. She reached between her legs and felt where her dress had gone damp and lay there slightly confused. Surely it was not time yet, she thought for she should have two more weeks at least and started to wonder if she should perhaps look for Fëanáro. And then the pain started.

It was not too intense. Just a pressure at first, causing her to feel like bearing down with her abdomen. It was uncomfortable but bearable and so she did not wish to disturb him just yet. The minutes went by before she felt the next one and again the same feeling, uncomfortable but not unbearable, and so she waited thinking that perhaps this would not be as bad as she initially feared. She chuckled as she thought of surprising him as he emerged from the sea, teasing that the gift she had found was far more precious than anything from the bottom of that black ocean.

Several moments later those thoughts were gone from her head as she screamed his name at the water.

When he ran up she was standing bent over, hands on knees breathing heavily. He knelt before her so he could look up into her face which was twisted into a grimace as she concentrated on some point on the ground below her.

"The baby is coming, let us hope you are truly as skillful as your name portends."

He laid a hand upon her stomach, his eyes locked on the round belly and the life it held within it.

"But this is not to happen for two more weeks."

"It is happening now Fëanáro."

"But we should have –"

"It is happening now Fëanáro."

And then she dropped to the ground as the next wave of her muscles involuntarily contracting took her.

Neither could remember just how long she lay there on the sand, her head in his lap as he held her legs up against her chest. He would recall that it was only a matter of moments while she would say it was an eternity. She would apologize for nearly breaking his hand while he would brush it off as a gentle squeeze. He would remember how he took charge while she would remind him how he screamed even louder when she cried out. But it in the end he would reach down and catch the tiny life that was expelled from her womb, cutting the life cord with his knife and cradling the tiny being in the shirt he had discarded earlier when he first took to the water. He had tended to her first, cleaning her and kissing her and preparing a shelter around her as she held their precious gift. And when he was done she smiled as she watched him hold his son, and he wept at the beauty of the life he had created and now held lovingly in his hands.

"Vanimar," she whispered in the dark and when he looked at her his eyes shown like mirrors reflecting Telperion's dimming light in the sky and when he smiled it surpassed all definitions of beauty in her mind.

"Love at first sight," he whispered back and she did not believe there could ever be another moment in their lives as wondrous as this.


	6. Sisters

**Sisters**

Nerdanel always wished she had brother. Someone she could go to in times of need. Someone she could turn to when she was feeling adventurous and bold or particularly intrepid. Or when she was feeling isolated and alone and felt the need to be protected. He would be capable of matching her in skill and audaciousness. He would accompany her to the shores of the shadowy seas and even to the shores of Ekkaia although he would advise against it while still joining her to make sure she did not meet trouble. Perhaps one day she would even be able to talk him into climbing the Hyarmentir and peek into the Avathar's dark shadows for fearsome creatures were said to live there and no Eldar had ever attempted such a journey before. But they would. They would climb to the highest point and lean against the wind; arms outstretched and take flight to lands unknown.

They would work in the forge together, side by side, she and her brother. Creating objects of wonder and beauty and her father would praise them saying how the Valar had blessed him with such children whose depth of imagination and potential knew no bounds. Her brother would understand her art, insisting she follow her own vision, never conforming to society.

"Shock them," he would tell her. "Wake them, make them uncomfortable and pull them in."

Her brother always thought she was beautiful. Often he would scare away potential suitors, having weighed and measured and found them wanting. And if she tried to her hide her face he would stop her, likening it to hiding the stars.

"Be proud Nerdanel," he would say, "for you are worthy."

He would be fearless and strong, audacious and resolute. Together, they would be unstoppable.

But she did not have a brother. She had a sister. Two to be exact, although who was counting. And they were not capable of matching her, and often she wondered if they were truly capable of anything other than reminding her of their embarrassment at her behavior and the plainness of her looks. When they were younger she always ran faster and played harder than either of her sisters. When she rode on horseback she never rode to the side in the manner of her sisters in their fine dresses, but stradled the horse in boys breeches for it was more convenient and far more practical than having both legs to one side and twisting around to face forward. But her sisters would object until her father would intervene and she would don a loose skirt to please him and quiet their nattering.

They never understood her fascination with the ford or her creations either. Complaining of how her presence there was shocking and inappropriate. That her attire when she worked was vulgar and shameless and her creations confusing and strange. They admired her statues for no one could find flaw with the recreation of those images. But often she liked to make things of her own mind, objects strong and strange but in her opinion beautiful. But her sisters did not understand.

"Shocking," they would cry. "Put those things away before they are seen for they are disturbing."

And often they would remind her of the plainness of her face and the awkwardness of her body. When they were very young they could be brutal in their critiques. Teasing her for hair that grew wild atop her head and chin that was too strong. Her eyebrows were too thick and her lips too thin and a nose that was slightly too big for her face. As they grew older and she continued to work in the forge alongside her father, the blatant insults took on more subtle tones as she had become quite strong and was not opposed to giving her sisters gentle taps on their dainty arms when her father was not looking. But more importantly suitors had begun to call and her sisters did not wish to seem ungracious in front of their guests. And so obvious jabs at her appearance turned in to discreet sideways looks and indirect comments.

"Oh," they would say, "that dress is a lovely shade of blue but perhaps we could let out the hips just a touch."

Her sisters were willowy and beautiful and garnered the attention of every eye in the room. It was always easy for her to slip unnoticed in the background.

Yes, Nerdanel always wished she had a brother.


	7. First Meetings

**First Meetings**

The house was abuzz with anticipation the day he arrived. Her sisters had become quite the spectacle in their preparations for the arrival while she had simply yawned and scratched at the mess of hair atop her head and sipped at the cup of warm black tea in front of her. She liked it strong and bitter and she always refused to acknowledge her sisters prattling till she finished her cup.

But a prince was coming today, a High Prince, and not just any High Prince, _the_ High Prince. Considered mightiest in all parts of body and mind, in valor and endurance, in beauty and understanding, in strength and skill and on and on and on they went. She watched her sisters with half lidded eyes and sipped at her tea. She was sick of him already.

Her father had come in and planted a kiss on the head of each of his daughters pausing at the youngest, grimacing at her cup. "You're too young to be so old Nerdanel" he would tease. She simply looked at him with eyes half lidded and continued to sip at her tea.

When she was finished she headed back to her room and dressed as she normally would. A pair of worn boys breeches and a tunic she tore the sleeves of off for when she worked in the forge. She headed back down stairs only to be greeted by her sisters still fluttering and fussing about, complaining about the state of the house and how little assistance they were receiving and when they saw their little sister their distress became even more vocal.

"Look at her!"

"Shameful!"

"It is not proper!"

"She looks like an orphan!"

They called to their father in protest. "Do something!" they cried. Their father for his part had stared at her in confusion for she looked as she always did. And so she took it upon herself to assuage her sisters' fears.

"Then tell him I am and orphan so that he may be dazzled by your charity and gracious nature."

She had no interest in this little prince and found herself becoming slightly determined not to like him. And from what she had overheard, he seemed to be more trouble than not and therefore resolved herself to be unimpressed.

She loved working in her father's forge. He never looked down at her for her ambitions. Her father being the only man in her life to ever encourage her endeavors, as even a few of the apprentices looked at her askance. And so it became her habit to ignore them and focus on her father only. He was commanding and strong and yet patient and gentle. The greatest of Aman's craftsmen and he only took the most promising students and she was always one. The forge was hot and dirty and smelled of burning metal and the air had an acidic taste to it but she loved it there, smelting the silver or gold, bending the iron to her will. This was her place, her world and she would command her father's attention as he did the forge, on her own terms.

She worked side by side with the little prince in the beginning and took great pleasure in correcting his mistakes and felt no small amount of consternation when she did not have to repeat herself. He was not like the other apprentices who were constantly vying for her father's approval. He moved with his own confidence and soaked up the knowledge of her father's forge. She would become irritated at the amused looks he would give her when she would grab the hammer before he could; leaving him to man the bellows, which he always did without complaint. But while he may have proven some level of dominance at the forge, he would never match her in the studio. He created things of beauty to be sure. But they were almost too beautiful, too precise. He could not immerse himself there the way that she did. She could get lost in the smoothness of the marble, spending hours running her hands over the stone till it finally spoke to her and she would grab the chisel and rasp and lose herself in the forms the stone would beckon her to create. She would go into the studio during Laurelin's early hours and suddenly realize she was still there long after the mingling of the lights. Occasionally she would look up to find him there; staring at her intently, his eyes shining with a strange silver light that reminded her of Telperion's reflection on the water. Sometimes she would just sniff at him and set down her tools, telling him to lock up when he was done. Other times she was too tired to even take notice of him and would just leave, stumbling out to the main house to collapse in her bed, waking the next morning still covered in dust from the day before.

It went on for some time like this. They would see each other in the mornings.

"Fëanáro," she would say with barely an incline to her head.

"Nerdanel," he would respond dropping to a deep bow before her.

And always when he straightened, her eyes would narrow as his lit up with mirth. It was not for several months that they would speak any other words to each other and even then it was brief.

"You do not like me," he had called out to her one evening as she set down her tools to leave, "do you."

She turned and looked him up and down, studying him with the same intensity as she would a potential carving stone.

"I suppose proportion wise, you are pleasing," she acquiesced, "… but then you speak."

She turned her back to him then and left the room, quite pleased with the finality of her statement, never seeing the slow smile that spread across the other's visage.


	8. Scars

**Scars**

Nerdanel sat in the dark of her room, her knees pulled up to her chest, arms wrapped around her legs. His words burned in a way no iron at the forge could. They created wounds and scars at times that could linger and fester if she let them, if she did not treat them. Unfortunately she would sometimes tend to them with stinging burns of her own. Striking out blindly in pain she would pick at the old wounds they both carried, scratching and clawing till the anger would flow thick and free and new wounds were created along with the old. It was not hard really. They had both come to learn this trick very well and would eventually perfect it in time. It was a hurtful act. A painful act. An act that had become somewhat repeated of late.

It was not yet common knowledge, their affections for the other. Their friendship slowly turning and evolving to something more, something that they did not quite understand at first and had kept secret, ducking behind garden walls and furtive meetings arranged in wooded areas or the occasional sneaking into bedrooms in the wee hours of night. He would prefer not do such things in secret, happy to let his feelings be known and approach her father to which she would roll her eyes and laugh, reminding him of their age and inexperience and the futility of their stations in life. This had always angered him and felt as if she were belittling his feelings, insinuating that he did not know or understand his own self. And he would lash out, accusing her of lack of steadfastness and stating that perhaps she was right and he should find someone who was better matched to his station in life, not some craftsman's daughter far too low ever understand what it could mean to be queen. And she would spit back that she always knew it would come to this, the spoiled prince entertaining himself till something far more socially acceptable came along.

They were silly fights, the disagreements of petulant children. But it did not lesson the sting of their bite.

She listened to the familiar click of pebbles against her window, but she did not move. The lights were off and perhaps he would think she was not home. Although when the sound stopped she knew that would not be the case. She rested her head against her knees and waited. After a few moments she heard a rustling sound as the window slowly creaked open. She did not look up. She did not need to for she could feel him there, crouched in the window sill, his eyes boring into her. The floor barely made a sound as he moved across and she felt the bed slowly move as he sat next to her. She still did not look at him. She felt the bed shift as he slowly moved behind her, legs moving around her sides, his chest pressed against her back as he lowered his head on her shoulder. They sat there like this for several moments. _Please_ would be the only word to flitter across her conscience, hesitant and imploring. _Please_ it would whisper again, caressing the open wounds with a gentle touch that begged for forgiveness while never saying it. _Please_ she would hear until eventually she would lift her head back and melt against him as he would bury his face against her neck and wrap his arms around her in a tight desperate embrace.

Why, she would say. Why do we do this? Why must it always come to this, she would ask. But he would simply silence her by pressing his mouth against hers. And she would lose herself in the feel of his body and forget her arguments, their combined heat cauterizing their wounds into tiny little scars that would always remain.


	9. Tirion

This is a two parter. I need to just start a fic I think.

I own nothing

* * *

**Tirion**

Nerdanel stood in the corner of the room somewhat sullenly. She hated feeling like some petulant child but found she could not help herself, which made it all the more infuriating. She had come to Tirion under the guise of visiting her eldest sister, newly married to one of the sons of a minor noble house in Tirion. Her sister was pleased to see her; always happy to show how she had married above her station in life. Her new brother-in-law was pleasant enough; he even complimented much of her work, which suddenly made her sister a longtime patron of her art. But Nerdanel also knew that he was of one of the houses was not as supportive of Fëanáro and the order of succession for the throne and so she kept her other reason for visiting to herself. She had sent a letter to the palace several weeks ago, telling of her experiences as she traveled during the hiatus of their apprenticeship. She informed him that she would be stopping in Tirion and would be staying with her sister for a short period of time, if he should find himself free of obligations. She had kept it short for things had become somewhat . . . strained between them of late. Not by any fault of his for it was her choice to be too preoccupied to spend the amount of time that they had both become accustomed too. He did not understand her sudden pull back from their usual travels and time they took together and had become somewhat resentful of his unfair treatment. She did not blame him nor put up any argument when he accused her of it which only seemed to anger him all the more and their last good bye had been with some bitter and petty words on both parts. In truth she did not expect any response at all from her letter and regretted it as soon as she sent it out.

But later that afternoon, after a morning of being dragged around the streets of Tirion, entering this shop or that one, being introduced as the baby sister who has come to see the big city, they had returned to her sister's house to find her brother-in-law standing in the middle of the main room with a stunned look and a piece of parchment in hand. He looked to his wife and in-law with disbelief.

"It seems," he spoke the words slowly as if to make sure he was speaking them correctly, "we have been invited to dine at the palace tonight."

There was a moment of stunned silence before her sister squealed with delight, running to her husband and throwing her arms about his neck, chattering about all his hard work and finally getting recognized. Nerdanel was only able to look at the invite for a brief moment, recognizing the heraldic device of the house of the High King, before her sister grabbed her by the hands and led her back out the door. Apparently there was even more to do now. They had to find suitable gowns for the evening as there would be no time to have any made but alterations may still be doable and so Nerdanel found herself being sown into a gown as her sister spoke to the seamstresses of their predicament, what with being summoned to the palace and all and on such short notice. Nerdanel could not help but feel apprehensive about tonight and it must have shown for every so often her sister would walk up to her as they prepared themselves to give her a reassuring pat on the shoulder.

"Do not fear Nerdanel," she soothed, "I will make sure you look appropriate tonight. Just look to me if you should find you do not know what to do."

Nerdanel felt very reassured.

When it was time to depart, Nerdanel stood before her sister's appraising gaze. Her hair had been pulled back and her hips felt as if they were imprisoned within her dress and planned to break free at any moment. Her sister had decided that Nerdanel needed one more thing, just a piece of jewelry around her neck to help pull focus from . . . Nerdanel did not hear the rest for her sister's voice had trailed off as she began to dig through her chest for something suitable to pull focus from, whatever it was that needed to be out of focus. As she waited, her brother-in-law approached, a small parcel in hand.

'Forgive me," he said, "but I almost forgot. This came for you today while you were out. I am sorry Nerdanel; what with all the excitement it had slipped my mind."

She thanked him and opened the parcel and froze. Inside was a single necklace of fine and delicate design. Made of pale gold and silver and adorned with only one jewel, a single luminescent pearl, that hung from the center. Nerdanel held the necklace up before her and she knew where the pearl had come from.

"What is that?" her sister cried. "It is perfect!"

Nerdanel allowed her sister to set the necklace about her shoulders and they left for the palace.

It was two weeks before festivals began and it was customary for smaller celebrations to be held all over Aman, although they were far more formal in Tirion. It appeared that this was to be no different. The table at which they sat was far in the back of the grand banquet hall with many of the other smaller noble houses. If this bothered Nerdanel's sister at all, she could not tell for her sister seemed to be quite in her element, hanging on her husband's arm as she made rounds to the other tables in their area of the room. Nerdanel had to admit she was slightly jealous of her sister and her husband. They seemed to be very happy and beautiful and her sister practically glowed with triumph at being invited to such an important royal function. Her sister had even given Nerdanel an affectionate hug and said that perhaps tonight they could make a future match for her as well for when she comes of age. Nerdanel had smiled sheepishly and glanced around for the nearest door. She had discovered long ago that it paid to know where the exit was.

The room was massive and Nerdanel was unsure she had ever seen its equal even while she was in the halls of Aulë. The tables were arranged to create a ballroom formation with a dais at the head of the great room for the royal family. The ceiling had been decorated in such a manner that it resembled a canopy of stars above her and she marveled at the hundreds of lanterns that softly lit the room. Great tall windows were opened allowing the night air to gently breeze through from the grand courtyard and soft, gauzy curtains gracefully billowed along the walls adding a whimsical touch.

Nerdanel sat at the table as her sister and brother continued to walk around, her hand absently touching the piece of jewelry at her throat. There were other couples seated with them but she paid them little mind. All she could think about at the moment was the perfectly smooth pearl between her fingers. The necklace was most certainly his work for she would know it anywhere and made just to her liking. Subtle and delicate, hardly noticeable but stunningly detailed. And the pearl was exquisite. She should know for she had seen it along the coral reef but could not reach it. At some point as they traveled he had retrieved it and she had not known. And then he had worked it into the necklace and sent it along to her sister's house. What did it mean? Had he done it some time ago, before she began to spend less time with him? Or was it something he had done recently, perhaps thinking of her and hoping she may come to see him again. He had obviously put a good amount of work into it. Or maybe he had not for things that would be time consuming for some were a simple hobby for him. Perhaps she was reading too much into all of this. It could be that Fëanáro had nothing to do with her being here. Perhaps her sister's husband was to be invited all along. He knew that she would be there at that time and so sent the necklace along for her to have before she left with no intention of seeing her whatsoever.

She began to feel slightly ill at these thoughts and was grateful to see her sister and her husband return. The feast was about to start as the hall quietened and everyone stood as the royal family entered through the main doors of the room. They were quite the procession walking through the hall. The High King entered first with the Lady Indis on his arm, he in robes of deep blues and purples as she wore the pale blue and lavenders in compliment. They were beautiful and Nerdanel smiled as her sister whispered in her ear, a blow by blow description of what they were wearing the thought that went into it for it was said that the Queen was with child again. Next came the Princess Findis and her betrothed, a noble from one of the houses in Taniquetil. Her sister told her how he was some very distant relation to the Lady Findis herself but not close enough to cause some sort of scandal. They complimented each other well though and were to be married at the start of the next warm season. Suddenly the tone of her sister's voice changed when she spoke next.

"Oh," she whispered, "looks like he came after all."

Nerdanel look back and felt her heart tighten in her chest. Fëanáro walked in next, eyes straight and head high, looking regal in the colors of his father's house and with a beautiful young woman by his side. She was tall and willowy and lithe and glided alongside him as if she had been born to be there. She was the very picture of what one would assume a high prince would be seen with. Fair skin and striking eyes and long dark hair like silk pulled up and away from her graceful neck and delicate shoulders.

Nerdanel's hand dropped away from the necklace at her throat.

She is from one of the oldest and noblest of houses among the Noldor of Tirion, her sister whispered in her ear. It has been said that their betrothal has been planned since their birth. Of course they were, she thought, why wouldn't they be. Nerdanel closed her eyes and shut out her sister's voice. When she opened her eyes again, she saw that the little prince was walking in next with a nanny behind him to finish the procession as the family and guests took their seats upon the dais. Nerdanel did not touch her meal for the rest of the evening.

She sat at the table and counted the minutes till she could leave, wondering if there were any way for her to exit after the dinner. She did not think she was going to make it through the night. The streets of Tirion were safe enough and she would walk back if need be. Every so often she would look up towards the front of the room. Fëanáro sat there looking straight ahead as the porcelain doll next to him chatted with the queen. Nerdanel watched the pretty little doll smile and preen, quite comfortable next to him and most likely imagining herself in sitting in place of the Lady Indis one day. How easily she fit in and how Nerdanel resented her for it. Suddenly the minstrels began to play an introductory tune and Nerdanel watched as Fëanáro slowly rose from his seat and walked to the center of the room as the little porcelain doll followed quickly behind him.

No, Nerdanel thought, I must leave now. She began to feel warm and felt her face flush and when several of the people sitting at the tables in the hall rose to walk to the edge of the dance floor to watch she took the opportunity to go to the nearest door to the courtyard. Her sister was far too interested in getting to the front of the group at along the floor to be concerned about her at the moment and so Nerdanel fled out the door and into the night.

The mingling of the lights had long passed and Telperion had just begun to stretch out its soft, cool glow. Nerdanel ran into the courtyard and to the elaborate fountain in the center where she stopped and sat down, catching her breath. What was she doing here? What had she been thinking? She did not belong in this world. She was being a fool and should be ashamed at her behavior. He is a high prince, what in Eä could have possibly have made her think that he would ever be interested in her? Because they shared common interests? Because he made her laugh?

She reached up into her hair and furiously pulled at the pins that held it back, throwing them to the ground as her hair fell about her shoulders. This was not her. And she was not going to be anything more or anything less than who she was. High prince or no. She stood up and smoothed out her dress. She would walk back to her sister's house, she did not care. She had walked farther and through far more perilous territory than this, she could manage. She reached down and tore a large slit in the fabric of the skirt so she would be able to walk more comfortably, making a large ripping sound as she did so. But as she tore at the fabric she heard a voice.

"What are you doing?"

Nerdanel froze mid tear, hunched over with skirt in hand and slowly pushed her hair out of her face. She looked up to see Fëanáro standing at the other end of the fountain staring at her curiously, his eyes reflecting the dim lights in that peculiar way of his. They both stood there for a moment staring at the other until Nerdanel stood up straight, torn skirt in hand, and began to laugh.


End file.
